


Red

by clarkesbellmy



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, F/M, Government Experimentation, I'm kidding y'all are gonna hate me, I've got no reservations with this fic, Minor Character Death, Private School, You're Welcome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-20
Updated: 2015-07-29
Packaged: 2018-04-10 06:47:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4381472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clarkesbellmy/pseuds/clarkesbellmy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her life might have just been turned upside down. She might have been confused as all hell. She might not have known what to do next. But one thing she did know was that Bellamy Blake was an asshole.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beginning

_“Nothing ever ends poetically._  
_It ends & we turn it into poetry._  
_All that blood was never once beautiful.  
_ _It was just red.”_

* * *

Clarke remembered the exact moment her life changed forever. It was also, incidentally, the exact moment everything went straight to hell in a handbasket, the proverbial shit hit the fan, and the bottom dropped right out from everyone.

She had been reading her chemistry textbook in the back of the library; page 327, paragraph 4, Electrochemistry. Clarke was really glad she hadn't died right then. How pathetic would it have been to have your last words be _"An electrochemical cell is a device that produces an electric current from energy released by a spontaneous redox reaction."_?

Very pathetic, is the answer.

So no, Clarke didn't die that day in the library, nor the day after that, or the days after that. Now though, she almost wished she had.

Because now? Now life officially sucked.

* * *

**Three Weeks Earlier**  
**5:18 PM**  
**A.R.K. Academy  
** _**(Alastair Reginald Kane Academy)** _

Clarke closed her eyes for the fourth time as she heard screaming from down the hall. She liked to think of herself as a pretty tolerable person, but come on, enough was enough.

It was Friday, which meant the local public school was borrowing their gymnasium for basketball practice. Clarke had nothing against public schools, or basketball for that matter, but she generally made a point to avoid the school during after hours on Fridays.

Today, however, was no such day. She had a chemistry paper due first thing Monday and her weekend was swamped. Studying at home usually proved...difficult, at best. Catastrophic, at worst. She loved her mom but... _yikes_. When it came to following in the familial footsteps, Abigail Griffin was meaner than a war general.

Literally. Clarke knew war generals.

So here she was, after five on a Friday, sitting across the table from her best friend.

Clarke knew Wells didn't have any work to do, but he had offered to keep her company anyway. Honestly, she was pretty sure they were the only two students who actually attended A.R.K. who were in the school.

Ah, yes, because _normal_ people with _normal_ lives probably had better things to do with their Friday night.

Clarke furrowed her brow as she came upon a particularly frustrating sentence.

"An electrochemical cell is a device that produces an electric current from energy released by a spontaneous redox reaction."

It was almost comical, the timing. The low rumbling started the second the last words left Clarke's lips.

She and Wells had just enough time to share confused glances before everything exploded. 

* * *

Bellamy sighed and flipped through his key ring for the third time, balancing the package he was carrying precariously on one arm.

He made a small noise of triumph when he found the right key and shoved it in the lock.

He had to admit, out of both his jobs, this was his least favourite.

Currently, Bellamy was on his shift for the post office. His shift which unfortunately included him driving through the gated part of the city, delivering packages that cost more than his entire year's salary, to people who really didn't need a _third_ copy of whatever the hell they were buying.

He closed the mailbox with a clang and headed towards the gym. The A.R.K. was his last stop, and on Fridays, he took Octavia home from basketball practice.

Walking through the pristine marble hallways, Bellamy briefly wondered just how pretentious the people who built this school must have been.

Very, he concluded.

Naturally, the doors were all the way at the other end of the hallway. _Pretentious bastards._

Bellamy smiled ruefully and figured there must have been some sort of symbolism for his life in that.

He paused when he heard a low rumbling in the distance and only had a moment to wonder, _what the fuck,_ before he was thrown from his feet. 

* * *

When Clarke opened her eyes she thought she had gone blind. That's how dusty it was. The air was simply white and she waited for a clear patch, trying to stop the ringing in her ears. Slowly, the world came back to life and sounds came flooding in.

In the distance she could hear people screaming. Real screaming. Terrified for your life screaming. She could also hear the remaining bookshelves tumbling over, scattering pages everywhere. Above all else, she heard her name being frantically called.

"CLARKE!"

She coughed and pulled her sweater over her nose, trying to breathe.

"Wells?!"

She heard shuffling from somewhere to her left and seconds later, Wells' dark head appeared through the dust.

He crawled over to her and instantly put his shaking hands, which were normally alarmingly steady, on either side of her head.

"You're bleeding!"

Clarke slowly reached up and touched her forehead. She hadn't even noticed, still barely believed him but for her red stained fingers and the small gash she felt.

It wasn't deep, she'd live.

"What happened?" She asked, glancing around the slowly settling dust.

Right away she noticed that the room hadn't actually exploded like she had initially thought, it was actually quite intact except for the East side. The entire wall of windows had been completely shattered.

Looking beyond the remaining window frame all Clarke could see was a black pillar of smoke.

With horror, she realized that was where the dorms were.

Clarke didn't live in a dorm, neither did Wells, they were only for transfer students. There weren't many but as Clarke pulled herself forward to the gaping hole she fell to her knees in shock. Both stories were completely obliterated, the only proof a structure had once stood there being the debris surrounding the hole in the ground.

Oh my god...

All those people...

Her _friends_...

Clarke choked back a sob and honestly thought she might throw up as Wells put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

Quickly shaking herself, Clarke stood up. There would be time to mourn later. Right now, they had to get the hell out of there. 

* * *

Bellamy slammed into the floor, thankfully avoiding the maiming of any important body parts, and distantly concluded that that had been an explosion.

Sitting up, he shook his head to stop the ringing and coughed into the dust.

The hallway was pretty much intact, he must have been thrown from the waves of the explosion, not the floor actually crumbling.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he registered screaming and snapped back into reality.

 _Octavia_...

He was on his feet and flying down the hall in seconds. 

* * *

Clarke ran down the stairs as fast as she could, ignoring Wells' protests that they probably weren't safe, checking her phone for reception. _Nothing_.

She sped outside in the direction of the dorms, praying she'd find somebody, anybody, still alive.

(Thinking back on it, Clarke wished she hadn't found anyone that day. She had lost a piece of herself the second she'd realized she couldn't save that girl.)

Maneuvering through the wreckage, Clarke barely noticed the scattered body parts -a spare arm here, a foot there- because up ahead someone was moving.

She rushed to the girl's side while Wells frantically tried to find a cell phone signal to call an ambulance. Oh, god. She was so _young_...she must have been a freshman, barely fifteen.

"Hey, sweetie, what's your name?"

"H-Hannah..."

Clarke gently pushed back the girl's red hair, dulled by the dust coating it.

"Hi Hannah, I'm Clarke. You're going to be just fine...I'm gonna help you, okay?"

Clarke didn't need to look very hard to assess the damage, it was clear that the biggest threat to this girl was the rapidly expanding puddle of blood she was lying in. Courtesy, it seemed, of the pipe sticking out of her abdomen.

Clarke peeled off her sweater and bunched it around the pipe, careful not to move it too much, and applied pressure to the wound. She knew there was no hope in hell of getting that pipe out of her without advanced medical equipment, which meant keeping her alive long enough for an ambulance to come.

"So, Hannah," she said kindly, brushing wayward hairs from her own forehead and leaving a crimson streak behind on her pale skin and blonde locks, unintentionally mixing Hannah's blood with her own from the gash there. "Where are you from?"

"Scotland..." the girl whispered. Clarke hadn't even noticed her accent.

(Looking back though, she remembered it clear as day.)

"Wow," Clarke breathed. "That's amazing. I've always wanted to go to Scotland."

Hannah coughed weakly, blood spilling from her lips and splattering grotesquely in the pool of blood below.

"I h-hope you get to go one day...it-it's beautiful."

"Hey." Clarke said sharply. "Hey, just hang in there and you can take me yourself, okay Hannah? You just gotta stay with me."

She nodded but Clarke could tell she was fading fast. _Where the hell was the ambulance?_ There was an explosion at a _school_ for fuck's sake, one would think it would be a priority.

"Hannah, listen to me. You can't close your eyes. I know you want to, I know you're tired but you have to stay awake for me, okay? I can't help you if you go to sleep."

A thick gurgling sound came from the girl's throat and Clarke fought back tears, she had to stay strong for her.

Hannah grabbed her hand with a grip much too tight for the dying.

"Clarke. I-I'm scared..." she whispered.

Tears were actively rolling down Clarke's cheeks now and she made no move to stop them. They were both smart enough to how this ended.

"I know...I know you're scared. But don't be, okay? There's nothing to be afraid of. You're going to be alright..."

With a last hitch of her breath, Hannah's hand slackened in Clarke's grip and a thin trail of blood seeped from her lips.

Clarke took a deep breathe before gently closing the girl's eyes and stumbling away from the body.

Looking behind her, she saw Wells standing a few metres back, watching her with silent tears streaming down his face.

Taking another deep breath, she quickly made her way towards her friend, ignoring his quiet ' _Clarke_...' and walking back into the school. 

* * *

Entering the gym was nothing short of chaos. Bellamy flung open the doors, eyes scanning frantically for his sister.

Most of the screaming had stopped but many of the younger kids were whimpering. He noticed Octavia standing with her friends and ran over to her.

She saw him over someone's head -Jasper, he thought- and started pushing toward him.

"Bellamy!"

He wrapped her in a tight hug, kissing the top of her head.

"Are you okay?" he asked when he pulled away.

She nodded and dragged him over the the corner her friends were standing in. He nodded quickly at them. Jasper, Monty, Finn, Harper, Monroe, and Miller.

"No one seems to be hurt," she started explaining. "But everyone's obviously freaking out, we're trying to figure out how to calm them down. Especially the younger ones," she added with a glance over her shoulder. "What the hell is going on, Bell?"

Bellamy too glanced around before dragging his hands quickly over his face.

"I don't know, O. I think there was an explosion."

"Is this some kind of terrorist thing?" Monroe asked quietly.

Bellamy sighed. "I don't know any more than you guys do, let's just-"

He cut off as someone started crying behind him. Looking around, Bellamy saw a chair near the wall and dragged it over, standing on it.

"Hey!" He yelled, cupping his hands around his mouth.

Some people turned, but it didn't actually accomplish much.

Octavia stomped forward and pulled him roughly off the chair only to jump up herself.

"EVERYONE SHUT _THE FUCK_ UP!"

Everyone shut the fuck up.

Octavia cleared her throat and straightened her purple basketball shorts, daintily stepping down and motioning for Bellamy to resume his place.

"Is anyone hurt?" he called.

There were a few head shakes, one or two calls of ' _no!_ ', and mostly silence.

Good enough.

"Okay, then everyone needs to calm down..."

After a few minutes of desperately trying to calm the frazzled students, he had mostly -aside from a young girl named Charlotte who Octavia was trying to comfort quietly in the back- succeeded. That is, until the gym doors opened again.

The girl that walked in looked like hell. He noticed offhandedly that she was wearing the A.R.K. school uniform. Or part of it at least.

She had dust covering her everywhere in a thin white film surrounding her person; except for the blood. The forearms of her white oxford were stained a brutal red, the cuffs almost black, and there was a bright crimson streak on her forehead, clinging to her blonde hair.

Needless to say, people started panicking again when they saw her.

Bellamy watched her weave her way through the students, ignoring their blatant stares, and make her way determinedly to him.

He jumped down but discretely blocked her path to the chair with his body. He looked down at her, she was tiny, barely reaching his shoulders.

"Who the hell are you?"

(In the weeks to come, Bellamy would regret his harsh tone very much.)

"Clarke," the girl said distractedly. "Who the hell are _you?_ "

"Be- _it doesn't matter!_ " He said heatedly. "You're scaring the shit out of everyone."

The girl -Clarke- rolled her eyes and shoved him out of the way, he was stunned enough to move. She hopped onto the small chair and Bellamy noticed that she was now only just taller than him.

" _Hey!_ " She yelled with surprising volume. "Do you want to know what's going on or not?!"

The only reason he didn't pull her off the chair, Bellamy told himself, was because he did want to know.

"The entire dormitory," Clarke began slowly. "Has exploded. Nothing else was damaged so I think we should all just sit tight until the authorities get here to-"

Now Bellamy did pull her from the chair, cutting her off.

"What is your problem?" she hissed at his back as he yanked her into an empty corner.

He whirled around and glared at her.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" he whispered vehemently. "What do you mean the _entire dormitory exploded?_ "

Clarke huffed.

"I'm not answering any questions until you tell me who the hell you are seeing as you're clearly not a student." She eyed his standard mail carrier uniform.

Bellamy rolled his eyes. Fine.

"My name is Bellamy Blake, _what the fuck do you mean the entire dormitory exploded?_ Were there people in there?" He was quickly losing patience.

"As much as I appreciate you trying to help," Bellamy rolled his eyes at that. "I've spent the past four years of my life in this school, I think I'm a little more qualified than you."

He raised his eyebrows incredulously.

"Oh? And where were you when this gym was full of crying kids?"

(In the weeks to come, Bellamy would regret this most of all.)

She got right in his face and poked him in the chest, passion gleaming in her eyes.

"I was trying to save a fifteen year old girl with 2 feet of PVC pipe sticking out of her fucking chest." she spat venomously.

Bellamy stepped back in shock, glancing at her dark sleeves. _Fuck_.

"Shit, I..."

He trailed off when a boy dressed in the A.R.K. uniform -also covered in dust- appeared behind Clarke and tugged on her sleeve, pulling her around.

He glanced at Bellamy briefly before leading Clarke back out the gym doors.

* * *

Clarke begrudgingly let Wells lead her out of the gym but shook him off in the hallway.

Her life might have just been turned upside down. She might have been confused as all hell. She might not have known what to do next. But one thing she did know was that Bellamy Blake was an asshole.

The rational part of her brain was trying to tell her that he obviously couldn't have known about Hannah or the dorm exploding, but the angry part yelled at it until it shut up.

She could see that Wells wanted to talk to her, but he was standing to the side, giving her space, waiting for her to speak.

Clarke felt badly for walking away when she thought about it later.


	2. Medicine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy ran on autopilot, gathering the rest of the kids who had made it outside, ignoring all of their scared questions, and ushering them back in before going back to the men's washroom.
> 
> (If he thought about it now, everything really did start that night she was washing her shirt.)
> 
> The door clicked shut and before he could say anything Clarke was in front of him.
> 
> "Don't say anything, just...don't say anything, please."

**Two Days Later**  
**9:34 AM**

It had been two days since the dormitories exploded.  
(There were no survivors.)

Forty-two hours since Clarke Realized they were all trapped on campus.  
(The gates were sealed.)

One thousand three hundred and twenty-two minutes since she had developed a strained co-leadership with Bellamy Blake.  
(They were the only two people anyone seemed to listen to.)

And seven seconds since Charlotte had died.  
(This happened quickly.)

Clarke watched in horror as the tiny girl's body crashed to the ground, the events leading to this moment flashing through her mind:

After Clarke had calmed from her outburst in the gym, she wondered why they were all still there. As it turned out, not only were the ten foot iron gates locked, they had also been sealed by something that looked like a rather high-tech version of caulking.

So, that was awesome...

The entire campus was also completely surrounded by an equally high stone wall, completely smooth, with sharp, pointed iron on the top to match the gate. They couldn't get out.

Clarke had gone back to the gym and told Bellamy, rather reluctantly, only because the younger kids seemed to listen to him.

He ran his hand agitatedly through his hair (a gesture Clarke would become familiar with) and muttered a curse under his breath before promptly turning around a giving a full fledged switch kick to the nearest wall.

(Clarke liked martial arts movies...sue her.)

The rest of the day was spend gently explaining that they would have to sleep here tonight, and calming the rising panic of the younger children because of the news.

In total there were nineteen kids under the age of fifteen, eighty-one kids over fifteen, and Bellamy Blake. One hundred and one people trapped in a three story private school.

People got hungry pretty quickly and started raiding the cafeteria. Clarke tried to create some semblance of order but she was only one person and her voice was easily drowned out by the frantic chatter of one hundred others.

Bellamy had managed to arrange for some of the guys to go scouting for things people could sleep on. Two groups were made and Clarke and Wells each led theirs to any rooms they knew contained couches or exercise mats.

Everything was gathered in the gym and people drifted off into fitful sleeps. There weren’t enough “beds” for everyone and Clarke found herself on the floor with her head on her best friend’s lap, listening to the snores of terrified children and breathing quietly into the darkness.

Looking to her right, about three people away sat Bellamy and his sister, Octavia. He seemed to be the only other one not sleeping, leaning his head against the cement wall and gently brushing his fingers through his sister's hair.

Christ, she had had enough.

Clarke stood up, careful not to disturb Wells, and picked her way through the crowd into the lit hallway. Once the door had closed firmly behind her Clarke leaned against the startlingly white wall and took a deep breath.

Looking down through her eyelashes, willing the tears to remain at bay, she saw her shirt sleeves; stained black with the final life of a dead girl named Hannah.

Ripping her shirt off Clarke ignored the chill she felt through her flimsy white tank top and stormed across the hall the the bathroom, failing to hear the gymnasium door click behind her.

* * *

Bellamy watched her blonde hair disappear through the doors and contemplated going after her. She obviously wanted to be alone. So did he, actually. But sometimes the best way to be alone, was to be alone with someone else.

Shaking his head at his inane logic, Bellamy slowly eased Octavia's head off his lap and placed it on his haphazardly folded jacket before making his way to the hall. He opened the door just in time to see her disappear into the men's washroom across the hall, seconds later he heard water running.

Feeling slightly foolish but mainly following the gentle pull in his gut, Bellamy opened the door.

Clarke was standing at the sink in her little shirt and uniform skirt -obviously freezing- and scrubbing frantically at her blood stained oxford.

He looked at the taps and would have laughed if he didn't feel so horrible, the girl had obviously never worked a day in her life.

"Cold water," he said.

Clarke jumped around, effectively spraying him with a few good ounces of water, and stifled a small shriek.

"What?" She asked breathlessly.

Bellamy stepped forward so he was visible in the mirror.

"You have to wash blood stains in cold water."

She stared at him for a moment before nodding.

"Right, okay," she mumbled as she switched the taps to cold.

It was silent for a moment before he continued speaking, resuming her frantic scrubbing.

"Do you always follow people into the bathroom or am I just special?"

Bellamy almost cracked a smile except for the fact that Clarke was visibly holding back tears.

"I don't make a habit of it, no," he said quietly, leaning against the counter.

She didn't reply and Bellamy wracked his brain, hating the silence.

"Do they have any salt in this place?" He questioned.

Clarke briefly paused her cleaning before furrowing her brow.

"What..?"

"Salt's a good way to get blood out."

Clarke blinked. Then she sighed and slumped against the sink, effectively soaking the bottom of her tank top.

"Are you fucking with me?"

She sounded so tired and Bellamy honestly wasn't even offended. This girl had been through more today than he had in his entire life; and that was really saying something.

"I wouldn't do that."

Clarke just stared at him.

Upon first meeting her, Bellamy thought she was an uptight little princess; and well, he still thought that. But he was realizing this girl was tough as nails even when she was drowning on the inside and her entire world was crumbling around her. He respected that more than he could say.

"Tell you what," he started, backing towards the door. "You keep doing that, I'll go check out the cafeteria -see if I can find any salt- and maybe then we can get your shirt clean, okay?"

Bellamy didn't wait for a response as he left the bathroom and headed to the second floor.

* * *

After that first night they had developed some sort of understanding. She was still stuck up and he was still an asshole, but...they worked. The second day was spent trying to find a way out (to no avail) and organizing the food supply. Luckily, they had enough to last at least a week.

When Clarke woke up on the third day, she had no idea everything was about to change. Again.

When Myles ran into the school yelling for people to come to the gate she thought her prayers had been answered. Instead they were greeted by the devil.

(Or devils, if you were so inclined to take it literally.)

Standing outside the school were twelve kids. Beyond the gate stood three people.

Everyone started running for the gate, so desperate for escape that no one stopped to notice the people seemed _wrong_. No one bothered to wonder why the people were just standing there, why they weren't trying to help.

Not even Clarke.

By the time she was halfway down the hill some kids had already made it to the gates and four seconds later Charlotte was on the ground screaming in pain.

Seven seconds after that -seven seconds too late- Clarke reached her. She was dead.

"What happened?!" Clarke yelled.

Finn, who was kneeling in front of her on the other side of Charlotte, looked at her with wide eyes.

"He...bit her."

He pointed beyond the gate, towards the man in the front. The man whose face looked... _wrong_.

Shit.

_Oh god._

"EVERYONE BACK OFF!"

Most kids stepped away out of sheer surprise.

"Clarke!"

It was Bellamy, running down the hill towards them.

"What happened? Is she-"

"She's dead," Clarke snapped, madly searching for something, _anything_ to- "Is that a gun?"

Bellamy glanced at the gun tucked into his belt.

"Yeah...I'm a cadet, I-never mind, _how is this relevant right now?"_

Clarke stood to her full height (which admittedly wasn't that impressive, but hey) and held out her shaking hand.

"Give it to me."

"Why in the hell wou-"

"GIVE ME THE DAMN GUN, BELLAMY."

Clarke's demand was accompanied by a small, childish cough from behind her.

As Bellamy's eyes widened in horror she used the distraction to dart forward and grab the gun.

Turning around, Clarke didn't even think before shooting Charlotte in the head.

The body fell to the ground the same time the gun did.

Clarke blinked.

"Get everyone inside," she said roughly before sprinting up the hill, ignoring the frantic calls behind her.

* * *

Bellamy ran on autopilot, gathering the rest of the kids who had made it outside, ignoring all of their scared questions, and ushering them back in before going back to the men's washroom.

(If he thought about it now, everything really did start that night she was washing her shirt.)

The door clicked shut and before he could say anything Clarke was in front of him.

"Don't say anything, just...don't say anything, please."

She slid down the green tiled wall that matched her skirt until her chin was resting on her bent knees. Bellamy joined her, doing the same at the adjoining wall so they were close but he could still look at her.

"Clarke...what the hel-"

"My father," she interrupted. "Worked for the government."

She let out a bitter laugh that sent chills down Bellamy's spine.

"Jake Griffin was the most sought after Regenerative Surgeon in the country. Wells -I don't know if you recognized him- is the mayor's son. About five years back he was in a really bad accident and my dad fixed him all up. He fixed him up so well that Thelonious Jaha offered him a job.

It was research, which was what my dad loved best. Research for regenerative medicine, capable of healing millions of people. How could he not take it? He worked there for three years before he started acting different. He was...on edge all the time, started being really secretive and quiet. One day I snuck into his home office and jimmied the locked drawer open. I found all these papers from his work with the regenerative medicine. I didn't really understand much of it but I could t ell it wasn't good so I put them back and confronted him when he got home that night.

Apparently his lab was experimenting with medicine that could heal the body from the inside-that could be used after death. They were testing it on people and the results...disastrous. While it restored certain cells in the body, it disintegrated the brain. The subjects became feral and dangerous and had to be put down. My dad was trying to get them to stop the experiments but they weren't listening. Jaha wanted to continue the project.

A week later my father was shot in front of a supermarket three streets from our house."

Bellamy wasn't entirely sure if his heart was still beating. His head was taking him to wild, unexplored places. _Was it even possible?_

"The official story is that he was mugged. That's the story the police told my mom, the story she told me...It didn't sound right so I started snooping, got some help from the internet and took apart my dad's phone. They had it bugged, had his entire office bugged.

The government found out what he was doing and they stopped it the best way they knew how. Thelonious Jaha killed my father because he was trying to stop this from happening."

Multiple things filtered through Bellamy's head. She was a _Griffin_. Her best friend was the son of the man who killed her father. And Clarke was very much not the person he thought she was.

"Clarke I...that's terrible and I'm sorry but...How did this medicine start affecting the public?"

She stared at the floor tiles and Bellamy watched her hair contrast with the dark green wall behind her as she answered.

"When it mixed with the brain tissue it started to grow into a virus. It can only be transferred physically and it has to enter your body-whether that be through mouth, ears, eyes, whatever, or a wound. They found out when one of the subjects bit and intern.

Apparently Jaha didn't want to kill all the subjects, he wanted to do further testing on them of them so I guess one of them escaped. All it takes is one. One to bite someone else and it's not long before you have an epidemic. I know it sounds crazy but...God, this is the zombie apocalypse."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you're welcome?
> 
> please review, it makes my world go round <3

**Author's Note:**

> ummmmmmmmmmmm hi so I know Sweetest Downfall is just sitting there...waiting...all lonely...and I know you guys want me to update it but I honestly have no inspiration for it right now so this happened...
> 
> it's the zombie apocalypse au you never knew you needed.
> 
> I want to make it really clear that this fic is going to be heavy, not at all like SD. I will be killing people, graphically. I will be discussing heavy issues (mainly mental illness) and there will possibly be sex.
> 
> I will also be adding characters/relationships as they happen so don't worry, your favourites will no doubt be included.
> 
> (the quote at the beginning is from a tumblr post which I have linked in my profile.)
> 
> please leave me reviews, they honestly give me the fuel to keep writing. also, I WANT TO KNOW YOUR OPINIONS! I'm pretty much writing this for you so...if you don't like it that's not going to fly now is it?
> 
> last thing: I want to say that I have no guarantee as to when I'll be updating this thing. I have chapter two done but I'm going to be shooting a show next month and onward and I won't have a lot of time on my hands for writing, but I'll keep you all updated.


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